


How I Became the Sea

by kibbledor



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-05-06
Updated: 2012-05-06
Packaged: 2017-11-04 22:05:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/398691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kibbledor/pseuds/kibbledor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His first love was like a river, always pushing him forward. When she dies in an accident, Harry has to pick himself up again and move on. Loosely based on the song by Owl City.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The River

His first love, like a river, was always gushing down the path and pushing him forward, down the mountains. She cradled him in a steady body, holding him as he struggled after the war, through the funerals, through raising Teddy. Ginny was a river and she lead him along with a gentle current, guiding him down toward the ocean. 

When he woke that morning, he reached over to tangle his hands in her red hair, to wrap his arms around her and draw her close, but his fingers grazed the cold and recoiled, reminding him that she was gone. He forced himself to exhale slowly, pulling the duvet tighter around himself. Wrenching his eyes open, he stared across the empty expanse of bed and out the window, squinting into the morning sun. Harry tucked an arm under his head and sighed, his eyelids falling shut again. 

It had been a year. He could almost hear her chiding him to get up, that the kids would wake soon. That he would be late for work. He tried to push the image of her lying amidst the white silk, arms folded, a gentle smile on her face as they lowered her into the ground, dressed in her favourite white–

“Daddy?” a small, hesitant voice called. He pried his eyes open and stared into green eyes, exactly like his. Albus climbed into the bed, wrapping his arms tightly around his stuffed rabbit and looking on quietly. Harry’s eyes softened and he lifted an arm for him to crawl up to the pillow, chubby hands gripping the fur. Al tucked his head under Harry’s chin, curling up beside him.

Al always saved him, at times like this.

Harry kissed his hair and Al pushed away gently, wrinkling his nose. Harry laughed and pulled him in close again. “What’s up, Al?” he asked his son, who was watching him with his huge, curious stare. He reached over him groped for his glasses on the bedside table, shoving them on as the clock on the wall came into focus. He picked up the photograph of his wife on the bedside table, grinning at him with Albus in her arms. He placed it back, gently, ignoring the clenching in his chest when Al spoke again.

“Why are you sad?” he asked, one hand resting against Harry’s cheek. Harry covered it with his own and rested his hand over his heart, still watching Ginny twirl on their balcony, swinging the baby in her arms. Al laughed and Harry turned a questioning gaze on him.

“It feels funny,” his face broke into a wide smile. Harry returned it weakly, kissing Al’s forehead again– sometimes, he would marvel at him, the way he would have looked growing up without a scar. Cruelly, then, he was reminded how he showed Ginny the cupboard in Privet Drive, the yellow mattress lying on the floor with the spiders and old figurines. He sighed and Al curled back into his warmth. 

“I miss your mum,” Harry said softly. Al shifted slightly, bringing his knees closer. 

“Me too,” he said. Harry wrapped his arms a little tighter, trying to soothe the trembling form. Sometimes, he wondered what it was like to _lose_ your mother– Lily had died when Harry was a baby, how could he have _known_ her? He hugged his son, rubbing his back gently.

Harry looked back over his shoulder, across the sheets. “I love you,” he whispered to her. A rush of warmth came over him, and he knew she was there. Sometimes, he could feel her touch him, a hand on his cheek or her lips on his forehead. She wouldn’t leave him behind. She never would.

Al’s breathing slowed as he drifted back into sleep. Harry slid out of bed– he needed a coffee. 

\---

“Marry me,” he said. She laughed, flicking a cornflake at him. 

“Why should I, Potter?” she said, eyes glittering. She leaned forward, her hair falling over her shoulders and cocking her head to the side curiously. Harry rolled his eyes and took her hand. 

He cleared his throat importantly and Ginny rolled her eyes. “Because you love me, because your mother thinks we’re _already_ married, because I want to spend forever with y–”

“All right, all right!” she held her hands up in surrender. Harry grinned and she broke into a mirroring smile, taking his hand in hers. 

\---

Albus joined him in the kitchen at noon, rubbing his eyes and dragging his rabbit on the floor. Harry set a plate of pancakes in front of him and rolled his eyes as his son stabbed one viciously. 

“Poor pancake,” he called over his shoulder, seeing him perk up at the sight of food– Albus had been spending too much time at Hermione’s, learning far too much from Rose and Hugo. Al glared back reproachfully, sticking out his tongue. Harry returned the gesture, grabbing his coffee and dropping into the seat opposite him. He leaned across the table and ruffled Albus’ hair. “What do you want to do today?”

Al stared back at him, cheeks puffed out with food. Harry gave him a pointed look and he ducked his head, swallowing it all and grinning back sheepishly. “You’re going to choke on something one day, kiddo,” Harry said, shaking his head. 

Laughing cheekily, Al stabbed another pancake. Harry grabbed a copy of _The Daily Prophet_ and flipped it open, thumbing through the pages– surprisingly, Seamus had bought the company over and ran it alongside Luna’s _Quibbler_. “Bookshop,” Al replied thoughtfully after a pause, watching him read. “I want, um, the Beedle and the Bard book.” 

Starting at the title, Harry raised an eyebrow. “How do you know about that?”

“Rosie and Hugo know lots!” Al beamed at him. “The three brothers, that’s my favourite– oops.” The pancake fell to the floor, syrup flying as Harry scrambled to stop the falling. He missed and Al winced, backing further into his chair when Harry looked up at him. 

“Messiest kid ever,” he grumbled.

“Mum said I got that from you,” Albus replied swiftly. Harry laughed, taking the empty plates to their sink. Harry was pants at household charms, preferring to do the job by hand.

“Get yourself changed,” he told Al. He slid off his chair, nodding and disappearing up the stairs. Harry finally fixed his gaze on the portrait beside his head, all the while watching him. He ran his fingers along her canvas lips and dropped his hand, resigned. He nodded to himself from within the frame, an arm tight around her shoulders.

“Morning,” he told the portrait. She waved, but it wasn’t _quite_ the same.

\---

“I, Ginny–”

Molly coughed and she shot her mother a look. “For Merlin’s sake,” she muttered under her breath. Harry laughed and squeezed her hand reassuringly. She rolled her eyes.

“I take you, Harry, to be my wedded husband...”

She laughed at that. “Sounds so official,” she whispered to him. He tried to suppress the smile that crossed his face, failing miserably.

She smirked back and gripped his hands tightly as she recited their vows, her gaze strong and resolute. She paused again halfway, sticking her tongue out and breaking into a grin, taking a deep breath.

“To love and to cherish, till death do us part,” she finished with a flourish. Harry raised an eyebrow.

“Wouldn’t want you moping around,” she said callously. “Boy-Who-Just-Won’t-Die and all that.”

Harry smacked her gently and she grinned widely. He rolled his eyes as her face softened. “I love you,” she said softly, resting a hand on his face. 

“Love you too,” he told her, leaning in to steal a kiss. 

\---

They pushed through into the shop quickly, eager to get out of the snow. Harry held Albus tightly in his arms, glancing warily around the surprisingly empty aisles. He slipped them into the shadow and pulled the invisibility cloak off, shoving it into his bag and setting Al down. “You okay?” he asked quietly, dropping to his knees. 

Al nodded, pressing a kiss to Harry’s cheek. They hardly travelled without the cloak– not since the press had shown a perverted interest in Ginny’s death, chasing them around for interviews, for the tearful reaction. 

He felt slightly ill just thinking about it, flattening his hair down to cover his scar. 

“Daddy?” Al’s voice was soft, looking over his shoulder. “Can we go?”

He gazed at Al and nodded, watching him take off running down toward a colourful display nearby and looking back with his innocent eyes. Harry trailed after him quickly, taking his hand. Small, soft and sure, Al lead him forward down into the shop and Harry forced himself to step forward, shaking Ginny from his mind.

Al stopped abruptly, peering curiously at a purple book sitting on the shelf, looking oddly out of place amongst the heavier, darker tomes around it. He pulled it out with some difficulty, juggling it with his rabbit, finally sliding down to the ground and leaning against the wall of books.

“What about your storybook, Al?”

“Later,” he responded, brushing him off. “I like this better.”

Harry snickered, sitting beside him and taking the bunny from him. _Advanced Potion Making_ sat open in Al’s lap, the pages fresh and unmarked– Merlin knows where he had picked up an interest in potions, they’d hardly had any of the books around the house. He flipped through the pages, tracing the pictures and skimming over the ingredients– Harry wasn’t sure he understood it all, but it didn’t matter. 

He stared off at the display of Quidditch books across them, sighing. Al had always stolen Ginny’s to read, laughing and clapping his hands when the animated players zoomed across the spreads of magazines. When she’d died, Harry found them in his bed, scattered under his pillow. Sometimes, he curled up with him and read them aloud to Albus until he finally fell asleep, too.

“Can I help you?” someone drawled from around the corner, interrupting his thoughts. 

Harry’s head snapped up, instinctively going for his wand and pulling Albus in close. Not again. It wouldn’t happen again. He tightened his grip on his wand when the footsteps approached, poking a head around the shelf. 

Harry faltered in surprise and Al shifted closer to him, stealing the rabbit back. The shopkeeper, tall, blonde and ultimately familiar rounded the corner, pushing his glasses up his nose.

“Oh, it’s you,” Malfoy smirked, crossing his arms. “I didn’t know you read much, Potter.”

“Piss off,” he replied, instinctively defensive, rolling his eyes. “Don’t you have anyone else to attend to?”

“It’s snowing,” the drawl was still familiar, Harry noted. “Not all of us are mad like you are, braving the cold and everything.” He looked tired, but his robes were neatly pressed. He didn’t slick his hair back anymore, letting it fall in his eyes, and his grey gaze was sharp through his glasses. “I see you’ve brought the famous Potter brat,” he added as an afterthought, surveying him. Al gripped his shirt as Malfoy looked him over and Harry looked down at him, rubbing his back.

“It’s okay, Al,” he soothed. “He’s not going to hurt you.”

“Yes,” Draco nodded, schooling his features into innocence and tucking his hands in his pockets. “God forbid I lay a finger on the great Harry Potter.” 

“Malfoy,” he said, shooting him a withering look. “Not helping.” 

“Just taking the piss,” Malfoy sighed. He rolled his eyes and walked over, crouching down in front of Al. Harry tightened his arm when his son backed further still into his side, looking up at Malfoy with slight panic in his eyes.

“I’m Draco,” Malfoy said, surprisingly gentle as he extended a hand. “You must be Albus.” 

Harry felt Al relax a notch, his gaze darting between him and Malfoy. “Yes,” he replied tentatively. “Albus Severus.” 

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. “Severus?” he asked Harry, impressed. Harry flushed slightly and tucked his wand away as he answered. “He deserved it.”

“Brave man indeed,” Malfoy mused, ruffling Albus’ hair and glancing down at the book in his lap. Al grumbled and pushed his hand away, smoothing it back down.

“Advanced Potion Making,” Harry supplied helpfully. 

“ _Potions_?” Malfoy asked, scandalised. “Merlin help us, a Potter in potions!”

“Oh, shut up,” Harry rolled his eyes. “My mother was good at it, too...”

Harry’s heart clenched painfully as Malfoy scanned the page. “What are you reading about?” he asked, turning his head to see the instructions better. 

“Felix Felicis,” Al said slowly, grinning proudly to himself. 

“Good choice, Potter Jr.,” Malfoy nodded approvingly and, after a moment, sat in front of him, pointing to things and explaining them. Al sat up straighter as Malfoy spoke, leaning forward. Harry, feeling the calm wash back over him, closed his eyes and rested his head against the bookshelf, listening to the sound of their voices.

\---

“...and your father cheated in one of the Quidditch matches,” Malfoy told Al, shaking his head. Al gasped and gave Harry a hurt look.

Harry shot up, holding his hands up in the air. “I did not!” he replied adamantly. 

“You swallowed the snitch, Potter!” Draco huffed. 

“It was delicious,” Harry told Al, rolling his eyes. “You probably cheated more than I did, Malfoy.”

“Oh, really?”

“You lot and your bloody Dementor outfits,” Harry glared. 

“Oh, spare me the dramatics – Princess Potter and his fainting spells,” Draco retorted, crossing his arms.

“ ‘It’s killed me!’” Harry mocked, clutching his arm. “For Merlin’s sake, Malfoy, it was a _scratch_.” 

“It _hurt,_ Potter!” Draco said defensively, colouring at the memory. 

Harry snickered. “Sure it did.” 

Albus laughed and both turned to look at him, eyebrows raised. He quieted and wrapped his arms around his stuffed toy again. 

“You’re funny,” he told Malfoy, soft and blushing as he hid his face. 

“Of course I’m funny,” Malfoy replied, grinning brightly. 

“You’re probably much funnier in your head,” Harry told him, nodding sympathetically. Draco shot him a withering look and Harry shrugged. 

Albus climbed into Harry’s lap and smiled at Malfoy again. “You are!” he repeated, louder.

Malfoy shot Harry a triumphant smirk. Albus continued, “You must be, because Daddy doesn’t laugh much.”

Harry’s heart stopped, eyes fixed on his son. Malfoy turned to give him a questioning look and Harry sat back uneasily, slightly shocked. “Albus–”

“Mum used to make Daddy laugh too,” Al said, ignoring him. “But she’s dead.”

Malfoy’s lips pressed into a hard line at that. “Really,” he said after a pause. “I’m sorry to hear that.” Al hid his face behind the rabbit once more.

“It’s okay,” he said, muffled. “I have dad.”

Malfoy looked up at Harry a long moment. “Yeah, you do,” he replied thoughtfully. “And you’re lucky to, aren’t you?”

\---

Harry hadn’t ever remembered Malfoy to be so talkative, curious and vaguely friendly. They talked about work, children – Scorpius was Albus’ age, he hadn’t known that – and bemoaned the absence of a decent Quidditch team in the league.

Al began to yawn after a while, and Harry stopped talking abruptly, glancing out the window. Apparently he’d stayed out longer than planned – the sky was beginning to darken – and he cast a _tempus_ to check. Six-thirty, already?

“Should be off,” he murmured to Malfoy. 

“Probably should, yeah,” he nodded back, standing and brushing himself off. “It’s been... fun, I suppose.”

“You loved it,” Harry returned smugly, lifting Albus to his shoulder and grabbing his cloak. “We’ll see you around.”

“Bye, Draco,” Al mumbled sleepily, muffled by Harry’s shoulder.

“Good-bye, Albus,” he mussed the child’s hair. Malfoy nodded to him and Harry pulled the cloak over them, disappearing back out into the snow. Another time, then.


	2. The Tributary

The skies were clear when Albus clambered up to Harry sprawled out on the couch, asking to return to the shop. He had been at Godric’s Hollow again, sitting in the cold and speaking to her– just talking endlessly as if she would respond. He would always leave her a scarf, running his fingers along the marble as he forced himself to walk away.

It was probably gone by now. She would have taken it with the wind. 

“Dad,” Al pushed at him as he tried to climb onto the cushion. Harry groaned and pulled his son up on top of him, wincing as Albus’ knees caught him in his stomach. 

Harry narrowed his eyes. “What do you want?”

Albus grinned. “I want to see Draco,” he told him excitedly, sitting up and gazing down at Harry. He wiggled, the book in his hand held tightly– Malfoy’s copy of _The Beedle and The Bard_. Al had, of course, had him read it countless times, reciting them easily beside Harry before he slept.  

The small mass of excitement nudged him impatiently and Harry made a noise of protest, fumbling for his glasses. “The bookshop?”

“Mhmm,” Al continued, eyes bright. “Draco said he would read me more books.”

“Did he?” Harry smiled, shifting Al into his lap as he sat up. He was already dressed, bundled up in a coat and his hair tucked into his hat. Harry pulled it down over his eyes, pushing him off and standing up. Al laughed and nudged him toward the door.

Perhaps this was okay, he mused, seeing his son watch him expectantly. “All right,” Harry huffed, putting his hands on his hips. “We’ll go see Draco.” He smiled as Al cheered, running off to fetch his rabbit.

“Be ready in five minutes,” Harry called after him.

\---

He decided to fire call Hermione before they left.

“Hi, Uncle Harry!” Rose’s face popped into view. Her bright red curls fell into her face as she kneeled in front of the fireplace, broom in hand. Much to Hermione’s distress, Ron had been sneaking flying lessons with his daughter, spending most of their time in the air.

“Hey, Rose,” Harry smiled at her. “Where’s your mum?”

“She’s at the Ministry,” Rose told him as Ron entered the room behind her.

“Rosie, it’s about to snow again– oh,” he faltered. “Hi, Harry. What’s up?” She stood and waved at Harry before dragging her broom out behind her. She disappeared around the corner and Ron shook his head, turning back to him. 

“Hugo?” Harry asked.

“‘Mione’s got him,” Ron grinned.

Harry chuckled. “I’m taking Albus out today,” he explained. “So we won’t be at Molly’s.”

“Git,” Ron moaned, grimacing. “Mum’s horrible when you don’t come.”

Harry remained silent. He hardly went– not since Ginny died. It was hard, seeing her warm eyes in Molly’s face, the familiar red hair of the children and her brothers, the warmth of her family. It still hurt, but he couldn’t ever bring himself to tell the Weasleys.

“Well,” Ron broke the silence. “Never mind. We’ll see you next week, yeah?” 

“Sure,” Harry replied softly, pulling his head out of the flames. “Next week.”

As Albus poked his head into the room, Harry held out an arm and took him into his lap. Staring at the fireplace, he sighed guiltily. Next week... 

He would probably think of another excuse then, wouldn’t he?

\---

Al gripped his hand tightly as they stepped past the heavy door. Harry nudged him forward and pulled away, tucking the cloak into his bag, watching as Al inched deeper into the shop. He paused and looked back, tightening his arms around the bunny. Harry crouched down and Al came back, stepping into his warmth.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, rubbing his back. 

He peeked up. “What if he doesn’t remember me?”

Harry sighed and rest an arm around Albus’ shoulders. “He’ll definitely remember you, kiddo. You’re–”

He was cut off as a small flash of blond pelted across the shop, a long stream of paper trailing behind it. Malfoy soon came into view, flushed and panting heavily, running after it. “Scorpius!” he growled, his glasses sliding off his nose. “Come back here!” 

Albus covered his mouth and stifled a laugh. Harry shared a smile with him, picking him up as he stood. He ruffled Al’s hair, pulling him in close. Al turned around to look as a loud crash resounded near the back of the shop. “Shall we catch him?” Harry asked deviously as Scorpius turned the corner, running towards him. 

Grinning back, Albus nodded.

Harry set Albus down and snatched Scorpius as he passed, grabbing him by the waist and hauling the blond up. Scorpius yelped and flailed until Harry gripped him tight in both arms, stilling him. He was surprisingly light, eyes wide in surprise as his legs dangled. Al bent down to pick up his long red scarf, pooled on the floor, and hung it around his shoulders, looking to Harry for approval.

Harry smiled widely and Albus wrapped it around his neck tightly. Malfoy rounded the shelf and spotted them, sighing in relief.

“Potter,” he said, his face still pink. “I see you’ve caught the brat.” He was breathing hard and he straightened his robes, shooting an exasperated look at his son. Scorpius blushed, falling limp in Harry’s arms as he grinned sheepishly at his father. Malfoy huffed and folded his arms.

“I’m not completely useless, you know,” Harry smirked, setting Scorpius down. Scorpius shoved his hands deep into his coat pockets, dark red still colouring his cheeks. Malfoy chuckled breathlessly.

“Must be getting old,” he complained, leaning against the bookcase as he caught his breath. 

“Who knew?” Harry grinned back. “That you’d be old at... what are you now, eighty?”

“Sod off, Potter,” he laughed, folding his arms. Scorpius began to rock his weight, staring out the glass door. He looked remarkably like his father, Harry noted– the same white-blond hair; the same grey eyes, but he was sure Draco’s face had never been spotted with jam _quite_ like his son’s was. 

“Nice face,” Harry quipped. Malfoy coughed and the boy turned, cringing.

“Yes, while it’s absolutely lovely, we’ll need to scrub it off,” Malfoy beckoned him over. Harry nudged him and Scorpius turned a resigned look at Albus, who hid his face behind Harry’s leg. Scorpius shuffled over, rubbing at his mouth hastily. 

Malfoy crouched down and began wiping his face, sighing. “Next time, keep the jam _on_ the bread,” he grumbled, cleaning the boy up. He was surprisingly tender, Harry thought, Al still clutching onto him as he watched in silence. Finally, Malfoy grunted in approval and took his son into his arms, turning to Harry.

Albus gave him a small smile from behind Harry, ducking away when Scorpius threw another curious glance at him. “Hello, Draco,” Albus greeted softly.

“Hi,” Malfoy bent and ruffled his hair. “I see you have a new scarf today.”

Albus hastily struggled to pull it off and held it out to Malfoy, blushing. “Sorry! Um,” he finally met Scorpius’ gaze, nervously. “This is yours.”

Scorpius took it from him hesitantly and pulled it around his neck. “Thank you,” he said suspicious, the aristocratic voice striking a familiar chord. Harry snickered and Malfoy quirked an eyebrow at him. 

“He even _sounds_ like you,” he explained. He faltered at the next thought, Ginny flooding his mind – “Your wife must be jealous.” She had, naturally, complained about Al’s looks every day. 

Malfoy’s face hardened and cleared his throat uncomfortably. “I wouldn’t know,” he replied tersely. “I haven’t seen her for two years, have I?”

Harry winced at the bitter tone, already regretting his careless remark. “Sorry,” he apologised quickly. 

Malfoy’s face softened and Scorpius buried his face in his neck. “It’s fine, Most people don’t know,” he admitted. “She–”

“Mother left,” Scorpius interrupted him, muffled by Draco’s shoulder. Harry watched curiously as Malfoy’s eyes softened, pain crossing his face, pressing a kiss to his son’s hair.  There was a silence as Harry considered them,  Draco’s arms still wrapped tightly around Scorpius. 

“Draco?” Albus broke the silence, standing between them – blissfully unaware of the tension. He looked up at Scorpius, tucked up and looking away, eyes resolutely fixed on a distant bookshelf. Pointing at him, he queried, “What’s his name?”

Malfoy grinned. “This,” He set the boy down and patted his hair flat, turning him to face Al. “Is my son, Scorpius.” 

“Oh, hello, Scorpius,” Albus nodded politely. 

“Introduce yourself,” Harry encouraged him, standing to lean against the bookshelf next to Malfoy. Albus flushed and Scorpius raised an eyebrow. Harry sighed at the nerves radiating off Albus – he had never been good at friends.

“I’m Albus,” he mumbled. 

Scorpius smiled suddenly. “Really? Albus? Like Professor Dumbledore?” 

Al blushed darker still and nodded. “How do you know that?”

“Father reads a lot,” Scorpius replied, pulling a Chocolate Frog card out of his pocket. “And I have these.”

“I have him too,” Al’s eyes widened, peering at the card. 

“Bet I’ve got more,” Scorpius stuck his tongue out, walking down the aisle. Al made to go after him, but Harry held him back with a swift grab to his arm.

“Hang on a sec,” he said, fiercely protective. “Where does that door even go?”

“Upstairs,” Malfoy piped up, calmly placing a hand on his shoulder. “To the flat.”

Harry pressed his lips together a moment in thought as Scorpius came back, poking his head through the door. “Are you coming, Albus?”

“Might as well join us,” Malfoy sighed, looking out at the snowstorm. “Doesn’t seem to be anyone about anyway.”

Harry swallowed nervously and took Al into his arms. “Do you want to go?” he asked tentatively, seeing the look of hesitation cross his face. They hadn’t– well, the paranoia hadn’t quite worn off.

Slowly, Al nodded. “All right,” Harry said to Malfoy. 

\---

Ginny had wanted a house in the countryside, far away from London. She had designed it all, picking out furniture for their living room, framing photographs and clearing out the dust in the house, finally settling in bed with him at the end, thoroughly exhausted.

_“The kitchen’s done,” she sighed._

__

_“Took forever, that,” Harry chuckled, kissing her cheek._

__

_“But it’s worth it,” she grinned. “We’re going to be here for a long time.”_

__

_“Forever, you say, Mrs. Potter?”_

__

_“We’ll see.”_

And when she died, Harry packed his things, took Albus and moved. He couldn’t see her everywhere, as if she would come in through the front door, happy and whole. Harry wasn’t sure he would survive the empty house on his own.

He bought a house in London, bringing nothing but the photographs _(in a box, in the attic)_ and their bed. Sometimes, he swore he could still smell her on the sheets. 

\---

“Astoria went to France,” Malfoy told him randomly while they sat around the table – Harry with tea, Malfoy with a glass of his expensive French wine. The kids were in Scorpius’ room, bent over a muggle puzzle. Albus was guiding him, slowly piecing it together neatly as Scorpius watched, intrigued. “She had her eyes on someone else. And their bed.”

“Who?” Harry asked, confused. 

“Astoria Greengrass. The ex-wife?” he rolled his eyes. “Honestly, Potter.”

Harry sat up a little straighter and gazed at Malfoy. He looked tired, frazzled and empty, swirling the spoon listlessly in the cup. “Sorry,” Harry said softly.  

“Don’t be,” Malfoy shrugged. “Not your fault.”

They sat in an uncomfortable silence until Harry spoke again. He imagined it, despite himself– that Ginny had married Dean, that she had disappeared from his life. “Did you love her?”

Malfoy looked up, weary. He pulled off his robes slowly, hanging them on the chair, and folded his arms defensively. “Yes. Didn’t you love the Weaselette?”

Harry tilted his head thoughtfully, but the answer was easy. “Yes,” he echoed Malfoy. It was almost refreshing, the way Malfoy talked about her. He could almost imagine her with them, grinning and sipping a glass of wine just like Malfoy’s.

“There you go,” Malfoy said, as if it were the easiest thing in the world, piquing Harry’s curiosity. He smiled uneasily back.

“Why are you telling me this, Malfoy?” Harry raised an eyebrow, taking another sip of his tea.

Malfoy gazed at him, swirling his glass. “Because no one else will listen.”

Harry bit his lip, unsure how to respond. He picked up his wand and twirled it aimlessly, vaguely considering running away. He was never good at consoling anyone, Hermione would attest to that. “By the way,” Malfoy added, picking him out of his thoughts. “I do have a name.”

“Absolutely shocking,” Harry slipped out before he could stop himself. Draco laughed and shoved him gently. (He would later notice how easily his brain had made the correction, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.)

“Must be too much for you, _Harry_ ,” Draco drawled, mock-toasting him. 

“Sounds like a challenge,” He returned easily, drinking his tea. They grinned at each other, challenge sparking in their eyes, before they sobered. 

“Scared, Potter?” Draco smirked.

Harry held his wand up and bowed mockingly. “You wish.” 


	3. The First Meander

“...And then, he showed me your Chocolate Frog card!” Albus was babbling excitedly over breakfast. He had been rather... enthusiastic, to say the least, since that day at the bookshop, endlessly weaving stories about his new friend.

Harry choked on his cereal, blushing furiously. “You know about that?”

Al nodded enthusiastically, pulling it out of his pocket. “Here,” he handed it carefully to Harry. Harry looked it over reluctantly and grimaced at his eighteen-year-old self, shifting awkwardly under his gaze in the card. He stood in his Hogwarts uniform, bearing the sword of Gryffindor– if only they could see him now.

“That’s nice,” he muttered, handing the card back to his son. Al beamed at him, tucking it back into his coat. They continued to eat in silence while Harry browsed through _The Prophet_ , resting his head on his hand. An owl flew in through the open window – a grey eagle – and landed on his shoulder, dropping a letter into his lap.

It was a heavy cream parchment, with the Malfoy seal. Harry rolled his eyes and slid the slip of paper out. 

_\---_

__

> _Potter,_
> 
> __
> 
> _Albus’ hat is with Scorpius. Come by the shop to get it._
> 
> __
> 
> _Draco_

\---

He looked up at the bird and it nodded, training its intelligent eyes on the parchment. When Harry hesitated just a moment, it nipped at his ear.

“For the love of Merlin!” he hissed at Malfoy’s owl. It smirked – just like its owner – and nodded to a fresh sheet. Harry grumbled and pulled it over, hastily scribbling a reply.

\---

> _Draco,_
> 
> __
> 
> _Ten minutes._
> 
> __
> 
> _– HP_

\---

“Do you think he’s lonely?” Harry asked Ginny, supporting Albus in his lap. 

She was sitting on the couch, her legs folded under her as she edited her article for _The Prophet_.  She looked up from her writing, eyebrow raised. “What do you mean?” 

Al picked up one of the wooden blocks on the floor, chewing viciously on it. He gave a toothless grin to his mother, turning to drop the saliva-covered toy in Harry’s lap. Ginny sniggered as Harry picked it up gingerly, casting it off toward the others.

“We’ve hardly taken him out,” Harry answered her, pulling Al’s rabbit out of his mouth. It was true– they avoided the press, preferring to hang around their home together, just like this. “He doesn’t go to school, nowhere past the door without us...”

“So?” she replied swiftly, not looking up this time. He sighed, pulling the baby back against him. Albus gurgled, tilting his head up to watch him with his wide, curious eyes. 

“Don’t you think he needs friends?”

She glanced up, sweeping her bright red hair aside. “Harry,” she exhaled slowly after a pause, pushing herself off the couch and resting beside him, laying her head on his shoulder and ruffling Albus’ hair. “You worry too much.”

“Gin,” he replied seriously. “I know what that’s like.”  


“ _No,_ Harry. He’s got you, me, and our friends,” He couldn’t see, but he swore she rolled her eyes. “It’s not the same. He’ll be fine.”

They sat together, watching their son. Albus reached forward for another block and began to stack them. Ginny shifted on his shoulder and Harry slipped an arm around her.

“Tomorrow,” she said finally. “How about tomorrow? We’ll take him out with Rose.”

He kissed the top of her head, a bit reassured. “Okay.”

\---

“I’m busy, Potter, some of us have work to do,” Draco called as soon as he stepped through the door, arms full with books to shelve. “Unlike the Chosen One, apparently.”

“I told you I was coming!” Harry told him, bewildered. “Ten minutes, didn’t I say?”

“Yes, but I’d assumed you mad and forgetful since it’s a Monday morning. Don’t you normally go to _work_?” Draco turned to him, pushing his glasses up his nose. Albus cowered slightly, hiding behind Harry’s trenchcoat and peeking up at Draco.

“I haven’t worked since she– ah– well–” he stammered out, picking Albus up instinctively. 

“Since she died,” Harry finished softly. He tightened his arms around Al. “It isn’t safe.”

\---

They decided to take him to Diagon, but nothing could have prepared them.

It would have been a simple raid to deal with – for an Auror and his wife. It should have been easy, like a routine– they had already pushed Albus aside into the crowd, duelling together. _Simple_ , he had thought, before, to his horror, their son pushed through the crowd, demanding to help.

He panicked, then– when Albus jumped out of the crowd and ran toward them, their opponent took aim, pointing his wand at the child, unguarded. Harry began to move toward him, keeping his aim trained as he moved toward Ginny–

But _Ginny_ was already moving toward _Albus_ , grabbing him and shielding him from the curse that was already moving. Harry felt himself freeze, blocked by a flash of light.

" _No!_ " he rasped out, barely seeing her crumple to the ground.

Al began to cry as the loud crack filled the streets, muffled by her thick coat. He was gone– Harry couldn't see him anymore– and he had his gaze fixed on her body. Blood began to spread in the snow. People were crowding around her and– oh, God, _no–_

He forced his feet to move. "Let me through," he demanded, shoving them aside to get to her. He pried Albus from her arms and looked into her eyes, still bright. She was breathing hard, fighting to keep her face calm.

"Are you alright?" he asked her, checking her pulse. She smiled gently, despite the pain. There was so much blood, it was staining her clothes–

"Momma," Al cried softly, reaching out for her. Harry instinctively pulled him close, hiding his face.

"Take him away," she gasped for breath as she spoke, grabbing his arm. "Albus. Take him away."

"No, please," Harry begged her. "You can't–"

"Go, Harry," she hissed out, the blood running down the side of her mouth. "You promised me he would be safe."

“Gin–”

“You _promised,_ ” she repeated.

He stared at her and she nodded, a hand tightening on lapel. He bit his lip, bleeding a bit, and nodded reluctantly. "Alright," he forced himself. "Where?"

"Anywhere."

Harry chuckled nervously, despite himself. "That isn't much to go on, Gin."

She laughed and reached up to touch his face. "I love you," she told him.

"Love you, too." He kissed her hair, knowing it’d be the last for a while. Only for a while.

"Bye, Harry." And then he tightened his grip on his wand and apparated away.

Harry felt Al shift, still crying, sniffling with his face buried in his coat. He swallowed hard and schooled his face into a reassuring smile. "Hey," he said softly, coaxing Albus up to look at him. "It's okay."

He wiped the blood slowly staining Al's scarf. "We're going to be okay."

\---

“-tter,” he heard vaguely. He was leaning against the bookshelf, eyes still squeezed shut. The pressure on the side of his body was holding him up, but he really couldn’t be bothered to use his legs yet. 

“Potter,” he finally placed it– _Draco_ was hissing at him, hand tight on his shoulder. “Potter, for Merlin’s sake, get a _grip_!”

He slowly readjusted his glasses as everything came back into focus. Draco had an arm around Albus, the other holding him up. “Sorry,” Harry said softly, pushing himself upright and taking Al back into his arms. 

“Better?” Al asked him, touching his face. 

Harry nodded. “Yeah,” he said softly. “Much.”

“What happened?” Draco asked, folding his arms and drawing his wand. “Your face–”

“Sorry,” Harry repeated, more firmly, ignoring him. He eyed the wand warily and flattened himself back against the shelf. “It won’t happen again.”

“Better hope not,” Draco sighed. “I can’t be cleaning up Potter insides every day, you know.”

Harry winced. “Again, I’m–”  


“–sorry, yes, I know,” Draco waved him off, turning to walk down the aisle. “You’re alright, yes?”

“Yeah."

“Then order is restored,” he said dismissively. “Come on, then, I’ve got your things upstairs.”

Harry smiled after him, grateful for the privacy. He kissed Al’s hair and followed after Draco slowly, shaky on his legs.

\---

Harry stared resolutely at his tea while Scorpius chased Albus around the house, roaring. They were playing some kind of game (Scorpius was acting as some kind of dragon, much to Harry’s amusement) and disappearing through the doors, only to reappear more ruffled than before.

He sighed and rest his head in his arms, pushing his cup aside. Draco was downstairs in the shop, leaving him to watch over the kids– deliberately avoiding conversation about his flashback. Harry couldn’t blame him, really. After all, they were hardly friends.

Turning to see Al running from his ‘dragon’ with a cape flying behind him, he smiled at the irony. Here he was, sat in Draco Malfoy’s house, drinking tea and babysitting his son. Harry didn’t mind– he had always stayed home to care for Albus while Ginny toured with the Harpies. He quite liked it, really, perhaps–

Taking a large sip of his tea and eyeing the blonde as they ran through the hall again, he pushed the thoughts away. Care for Scorpius, too? He snorted.

Absolutely not.

\---

> _Harry,_
> 
> __
> 
> _It’s the Snorkack season in England again next week. It’s always lovely, especially when it’s still cold. My shoes kept getting stolen here, though, it’s mysterious._
> 
> __
> 
> _Perhaps you’d like to meet for lunch on Sunday, at the Leaky Cauldron?_
> 
> __
> 
> _My regards,  
>  Luna_

__

_\---_

__

He’d sworn that he’d find him– the man who killed her, that is.

Albus couldn’t know, so he would work late at night, _finding_ him. He searched all over the world, tracking that magical signature. The Auror department had declared the case unsolvable– they hadn’t found any clues besides the residue of that one curse. And so, naturally, Harry took it on.

His son slept on upstairs. He couldn’t know.

He had been in France, three months after her death, waiting for him to show up. A lead– his friend had been speaking too loudly in a pub the night before, drunk on her firewhiskey. But Hermione showed up in the alleyway, interrupting his stakeout. 

“Hermione?” he asked increduclously.

She pinned him against the wall then, pointing her wand at him. “Look at me, Harry,” she had growled at him impatiently.

“I’m looking–”  


“No,” she cut him off. “Look. At. Me. Not over there.”

He reluctantly locked his gaze with hers, shifting uncomfortably. “What’s wrong?” he asked, trying to pacify her. 

“Where’s Albus?” she demanded. “Ron told me you’d–”

“At home,” he told her, getting a grip on her hand. “Let go–”  


“You’ve left him _alone_ , haven’t you?” she said faintly. Harry stilled, looking at her, hesitant to move. She released him and backed away slowly. 

His gaze flitted over to the door. She slapped him and he winced, looking back to her.

“Harry Potter, do you _honestly_ think she’d have wanted you like this?” she asked him, her eyes softening. Hermione stood at a distance now, still dressed in her nightgown. It must have been a late night at the office, he thought, judging by the state of her hair– it was messy, but still tied into her normal bun.

“You don’t understand,” he replied softly. And suddenly, it was there– the warmth, the wind around him. She had come back, and wasn’t she telling him to go?

“Alright,” she said, folding her arms. “How about Albus, then? What were you thinking?”

“I–” He paused for a moment. He was there, slipping out of the building, running away. It was too late, he had to go _now_ –

“I don’t know,” Harry admitted. “I’m sorry.”

Hermione didn’t stop him when he stepped out into the street, running after the pale figure. He couldn’t forget her face, and the warmth slipped away as soon as he touched the pavement. Ginny was gone as soon as he was running, another whisper in the spring.

He returned the case to Robards a week later, curling around Al every night. Protecting him.

\---

Luna was easily found, wearing a bright orange cap to coordinate with her robes. Harry chuckled as he sat opposite her, feeling oddly... dull, really dressed in jeans. He was well aware of the stares from the passers-by, but he couldn’t care less.

“Good to see you, Luna,” he offered, leaning on the table when she didn’t acknowledge him. She was reading _The Quibbler_ , running her finger curiously down the page. Harry cleared his throat.

“Luna,” he repeated. She snapped her head up this time, pushing her matching glasses up her nose. She took the ghastly orange frames off and set them aside, grinning widely.

“Harry!” she said. “I was beginning to think you wouldn’t show, I mean– I wasn’t sure what time we’d be meeting here, you see.”

“Sorry about that,” Harry winced. “Had to drop Albus with Ron and Hermione.”

“Not at all,” she beamed. “How are you?”

“Good, thanks. You?”

“Wonderful,” she sighed. “The Snorkacks!”

“Right,” he raised his cup of coffee to toast her. He glanced warily at her oddly luminous purple drink, clinking against his. “And...?”

“You’ve got more wrackspurts than normal,” she commented offhandedly, picking up her magazine again to hide her smile. Harry snickered at the confused glances from their onlookers.

“ _Luna_ ,” he said dangerously, rolling her eyes. She looked up and winked. Luna had finally gone on to wizarding naturalism after Hogwarts– she had finally given up on wrackspurts a year ago. (Harry, Ron and Hermione secretly hoped the Snorkacks were next. Neville had always simply followed her around.)

They chuckled for a moment before she leaned forward. “I’ve missed you, Harry.”

He grinned. “Me too.”

She laced her fingers together dreamily, gazing at him. Harry stiffened under her curious gaze, uncomfortable as she studied him with unfocused blue eyes. “Er, Luna–”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she shook her head, picking up her drink again and taking a large sip.

Harry frowned worriedly. “What is it?”

Luna folded her hands in her lap and leaned back. “Nothing, Harry,” she said, gazing out the window and staring at a kneazle. “You’re a lot better, now.”

“Excuse me?” he raised an eyebrow, confused. 

“Well,” she looked back, talking as if it were obvious. “You haven’t quite been the same since Ginny died, have you?”

Harry straightened and his face hardened, pushing the fresh images away. “Luna,” he said softly. “I’d rather not talk about that.”

She reached out and took his hand. “All right,” she sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“Are you going to see Neville?” he asked politely, changing the subject. “He’s been missing you."

She laughed. “After I’ve been to that bookshop down the street, later. Would you like to come with me?”

He sat back, surprised. “You’re visiting Malfoy?”

“Ah, yes,” she tapped her head and smiled widely and moving to leave him behind. “That was it. Draco’s shop.”

“Luna, wait,” he called hurriedly, putting some money on the table. She turned to smile condescendingly, as if she’d known he would come all along. He groaned. “I’ll join you.”

\---

“Draco?” he called when they stepped into the shop. “I’ve brought a friend.”

“Feeling better, then?” came the reply, hidden behind the shelf. Draco poked his head out, a quill between his teeth and waved at them. 

“Luna’s with me,” Harry told him, leading her in. Luna walked forward and took the stack from Draco’s arms, looking up at the tower of naturalism books he’d been shelving.

“Quite a collection, isn’t it?” Draco smirked, folding his arms. 

She turned to him and cocked her head, confused. “I suppose,” she said slowly, inspecting his head. “Have you lost some hair already?”

Harry let out an undignified snort as Draco flushed darkly. “Hardly,” he replied, keeping his face soft while throwing dirty looks at Harry over her shoulder. “Scorpius keeps me busy.”

“I imagine so,” she smiled and skipped down the aisle, running her finger along the spines of the books. Harry continued chuckling as she disappeared out of sight, muttering “hair loss” under his breath. 

“Shut up,” Draco hissed, shoving him.

“Sorry,” he stifled his laughter, schooling his face into nonchalance. He looked over, faking curiosity as as he reached up to touch his hair. “My, is that a bald spot?”  


He turned and ran as Draco rounded on him, muttering curses under his breath.

\---

“Where’ve you left the kids?” Draco asked while Luna was sorting through her texts.

“Ron and Hermione’s,” he answered promptly. “They wanted to take Scorpius out to the zoo.”

“Weaselbugs,” Draco shuddered. “The things you do to my son.”

“Oh sod off,” he swatted at his shoulder without malice. 

Harry leaned against the shelf, suddenly aware that Draco was in dress robes. “Got a date tonight?”

He blushed. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Must be a pretty one,” Harry chuckled. Draco coloured even darker, watching him out of the corner of his eye. 

“Like Lovegood over there?” Draco smiled knowingly.

Harry snorted. “We’re just friends.”

“I know,” the reply was soft, contemplative, but Harry didn’t think much of it.

“Draco?” Luna interrupted. “I’m looking for _Crumple-Horned_ Snorkacks, not the common Snorkack. Have you any more specific texts?”

He quirked his lips thoughtfully, but Harry saw the repressed look of incredulity. “Perhaps,” he said finally. “Over here.”

They moved towards the fantasy section and Harry picked up a book on Quidditch, trying not to laugh at Draco’s obvious discomfort, pointing out novels to their naturalist.

\---

“Thank-you for the books,” she said graciously before they left the shop, cheery.

Harry grumbled, holding the bag for her. No less than seventeen tomes– even shrunken, they weighed a fair bit– sat neatly stacked in it, all illustrious tales on the legendary Crumple-Horned Snorkacks. Draco nudged him.

“Shall we go, then, Luna?” Harry asked, taking his cue – Neville was outside the shop.

“Oh, yes,” she said airily, hardly paying attention. She grinned ridiculously wide as she danced out of the shop, leaving her orange hat behind.

“Odd as ever,” Draco snickered, shoving him down the aisle. 

Harry smiled. “You? Yeah.”

“Get out,” Draco pushed him. “She’s waiting.”

\---

“Harry!” Neville called him as he stepped out into the snow. 

He grinned back. “Good to see you, mate,” he said, extending his hand.

Neville shook it firmly– Harry rather thought Professor Snape would have been proud of him now, being the youngest professor at Hogwarts.

“Oh, Harry,” Luna sighed, floating up to them. “I thought we’d lost you.”

“‘Course not,” he reassured her. “Was just talking to Draco for a bit.”

“Draco Malfoy?” Neville asked, impressed. “Potter and Malfoy, _friends_?”

Harry smiled, but shifted uncomfortably. “I suppose he’s not a bad bloke.”

“Yeah, what with letting Death Eaters into Hogwarts–”

“Forget it, Neville,” Harry cut him off sharply with a pointed look. “It’s been years.”

Neville fell silent, his eyes unreadable. “All right,” he finally relented. “If you say so, Harry.”

“He likes you too, you know,” Luna piped up randomly. 

“Excuse me?” Neville turned to her, confused.

“Draco,” she said, as if it were apparent. 

Neville’s mouth fell into a small ‘o’ and Harry’s eyebrow disappeared into his hair. “What do you mean?” 

But Luna was already gone, picking snow flowers at the side of the street. Neville saw her and sighed, hands deep in his pockets. 

“Freezing out, and she goes to pick flowers,” he complained. 

Harry passed him the bag of books. “These are hers, too.”

“Well, don’t give them to me!” Neville looked at him, horrified.

“I’m not dating her, am I?” Harry said accusingly.

Neville blushed and took the bag from him. “So, you and Malfoy...?”

“What about?” Harry asked him.

“You’re... _dating_ him, are you?” Neville asked him carefully.

Harry’s mouth fell open. “No, no! What do you–”

“And what about Ginny?” he pressed on. 

He snapped his mouth shut again. “I’m not dating anyone, Nev.”

Neville looked over his shoulder at Luna. “Sure,” he said. “But Luna thinks you are.”

Harry didn’t respond, feeling the warmth surround him. Neville clapped him on the shoulder. “See you around, Harry,” he nodded, taking Luna’s hand and leading her off.

Draco peeked out of the shop. “Oy, Potter!” he yelled.

“Y–yeah?” he turned around, startled, shaking his head to clear it.

“Don’t you dare forget to fetch them,” he said exasperatedly. “You are _not_ leaving Scorpius at Weasley’s for the night.”

He swung the door shut, leaving Harry alone in the snow again. “Okay,” he said belatedly.

_“So, you and Malfoy?”_ Neville’s words still rang in his head, oddly resonant. Harry brushed it off and started down Diagon Alley again, shoving his hands into his pockets. 

“This is ridiculous,” he told Ginny, feeling her follow him. 

_Death do us part,_ she said before she disappeared.

Harry pressed his lips together and walked towards the apparition point, desperately ignoring it.

\---

"Hermione," he greeted her, kissing her cheek.

"You're late," she rolled her eyes, stepping aside. A loud crash resounded and she sighed exasperatedly. "They're upstairs with Rose."

"How terrifying," Harry smiled. Ron poked his head out of the kitchen.

"Good to see you, Harry," he mock-saluted him, grinning. "Taking time out of that busy schedule to see us."

"Where've you been?" Hermione asked, walking him up the stairs.

"Draco's, with Luna."

"Oh, and it’s _Draco_ now, is it?" she smirked. Harry cleared his throat uncomfortably.

She patted his shoulder. "All right, I won't ask. How is she? Luna?"

"Distracted," he said slyly.

"Neville must have his hands full, then," she laughed. Harry nodded, pressing his ear to the door and listening to the sounds of the children buzzing inside.

"Should've seen Draco's face when she asked for books on the Crumple-Horned Snorkacks," he chuckled.

She frowned and crossed her arms, leaning on the opposite wall. "I hope he wasn't rude," she said.

"Perfectly civil," Harry assured her. He paused, staring at a picture of him, Ron and Hermione in the Gryffindor common room. "Says a lot about us all, doesn't it?"

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing was ever quite the same," Harry said vaguely. She bit her lip worriedly, so he hastily added. "It's brilliant, though."

Hermione's reply was cut off as Scorpius threw the door open, holding a toy wand pointed at them and swishing his cape with conviction. Harry suppressed a laugh, resisting the urge to teach him the 'proper' way to sweep a cloak.

"Scorpius!" Rose whined from inside. Her hat fell over her eyes, the robes hanging loosely on her tiny frame.

"Hi, dad," Al piped up from inside, waving.

"Hey," he waved back, surveying the mess on the floor. Cloaks, robes, toy cauldrons, books and the like were strewn out and Hermione muttered dangerously about cleaning the mess later. Rose blushed and ducked her head.

"Harry," Scorpius said, prodding him. "You're under arrest."

"Am I?" Harry asked him, mocking surprise. "What for?"

"He's an Auror," Rose giggled. Hermione nodded in understanding, pressing a finger to her lips. She grinned conspiratorially and Al watched them interestedly as Harry leaned down to grab Scorpius and flip him over.

"Seems I've caught you, Auror Malfoy," he said, sounding shocked. "Whatever will you do?"

He shifted Scorpius in his arms until he was sitting comfortably, upright, the short wand still pointed at him. "I'll tell dad."

Hermione burst out laughing and Scorpius turned to look at her strangely. "It's nothing," Harry assured him, setting him down and leaving them to clean up. 

"Al," he called, before they went downstairs. "Five more minutes, alright?"

He waved off the loud noises of protest and trailed after Hermione, snickering at him as she joined Ron in the kitchen.

\---

He stilled at the portrait of the Weasleys sitting near the dining table, painted some time after the war– Harry sat with them, an arm around Ginny while they chattered amongst themselves, barely sitting still. The light had just begun to return to George's eyes and Harry was grinning widely, looking at Ginny when he thought she wouldn't notice.

"Heard you've been with Malfoy, mate," Ron interrupted his thoughts.

"Yeah," he replied unhelpfully, avoiding his gaze.

"Still a git, then?" Ron asked, leaning against the counter next to him.

Harry smiled and ran a hand through his hair. "Definitely."

“Bit bizarre, if you ask me,” he shoved Harry playfully. “You and Malfoy.”

Harry rolled his eyes and they looked back to the portrait together as Albus entered the kitchen, Scorpius trailing behind him– Harry pulled his gaze away, seeing the messy hair and rumpled clothes. The two of them stared up at him, both obviously annoyed.

"He pushed me," Scorpius said defensively. Albus’ jaw fell open and began to protest. “Dad–”

"And you pushed him back, didn’t you?" Harry replied, rolling his eyes. “You two can’t stay apart for a minute.”

They both blushed and didn't say a word. Harry rubbed his temples and crouched to their level. “Scorpius, don’t push Albus. Al, don’t be mean to him. Really, don’t.”

He looked at them and they shared a glance before nodding. Harry exhaled in relief and turned to Ron. "I'll see you, then. Got to get Malfoy Jr. home."

"Yeah," Ron said thoughtfully, watching him with a curious expression. "See you."

\---

Scorpius ran upstairs as soon as they passed into the shop– he'd tucked Albus into bed at home, Hermione over for a while to watch him.

Draco sighed and extended a rather large orange hat awkwardly, barely holding onto it. "Lovegood left it tucked in the bookshelf," he explained reluctantly.

" _In_ the bookshelf?" Harry asked him incredulously. Draco nodded.

"Between the books about Nargles and the one about Blibbering Humdingers," he told Harry. "Naturally, all by a certain author named Xenophilius Lovegood."

Harry chuckled. “Did she notice?”

Draco sighed. “Did she? She’s barking.”

"She's happy," Harry shrugged. Draco rolled his eyes.

"She's lost it," he repeated. "Will you be back tomorrow?"

Harry nodded. "Albus already asked just now, if that’s okay. Is ten o'clock good?"

"Bloody early risers," Draco grumbled, but didn’t deny him.

He grinned. "Nine-thirty, then. See you, Draco."

\---

"Harry?" she opened the door, dressed in an alarming shade of pink.

"You left this," he held out the hat, hidden away from stares in a black paper bag.

"Why'd you take it out?" She sounded disappointed, taking the hat reluctantly. "I was trying to get rid of the nargles in the area."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "I'm…sorry?"

She sighed. "It's alright," she decided. "Draco doesn't seem to mind."

"No, I'm sure he doesn't," Harry agreed with her enthusiastically.

She paused and squinted at him for a while. Then, she broke into a huge grin. "You like him," she announced.

Harry sighed. "Luna, we're not–"

"I'm happy for you," she continued, ignoring him. "New friends are always nice."

Harry faltered, startled as the reality washed over him. "Oh."

"You seem confused," she frowned. "Is something wrong?"

"Absolutely not," Harry told her. "I'll just be going now."

He walked away even as Luna called him, apparating himself straight into his bedroom and dropping face-down into bed.

"I'm such an idiot," he mumbled.

\---

"I was hoping you'd be late," Draco sighed, pulling the door open to let them in.

"For you? Never," Harry blinked innocently. Draco groaned.

"Hi, Draco," Al greeted him, reining his excitement in.

"Hello," Draco replied automatically, suppressing a yawn. His hair was still sticking up in odd places, dark circles under his eyes. Harry felt rather overdressed, seeing him stand there, looking rather intimidating in nothing but his pyjamas – there was an unnameable feeling stirring, too, but it must have just been discomfort. Al squirmed and Harry set him down, letting him run into the house.

"Have you got someone in there we should be watching out for?" he raised an eyebrow, suddenly spotting a blossoming bruise on his neck.

"Oh, yes," he nodded solemnly. "Harry Potter's up there. He's a bit grumpy in the mornings, but you'll be alright."

"Sounds terrible," Harry said faintly, shocked.

"Absolutely," Draco sighed. "Don't know why I put up with him."

Harry froze, Neville's words plaguing him again, but he forced a smile. "That's because he's brilliant," he tried.

“Oh, yes,” Draco sighed dreamily.

“Obviously a good kisser,” Harry nodded.

Draco snickered. "And humble."

"Very humble," Harry said, folding his arms.

"You sound ridiculous," Draco said after a pause, breaking into a smile and shaking his head.

"And you've got a crush on me," Harry retorted swiftly.

"'Course not, Potter," Draco coloured slightly. He adjusted the ties on his robe and looked away.

Harry cocked his head to the side but Draco waved it off dismissively. He paused, watching him shift, but decided to let it drop. "If you say so."

Harry walked past him, almost missing the breath of relief.


End file.
